


A Lyrium Cage

by darktensh17



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rituals, Slavery, Spirits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:30:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darktensh17/pseuds/darktensh17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting with Varania and killing Danairus Fenris learns something that shakes up his entire existance. Eventually M!Hawke/Fenris</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DA Kink Meme.
> 
> Also I suck at battle scenes.

When Fenris walked into the Hanged Man that night with Hawke, Merrill, and Varric at his side, he was not sure what he was expecting from the meeting with his supposed sister. Looking around the Hanged Man, he noticed that there weren’t as many patrons as usual, which could be attributed to the time of day. Even most drunks in Kirkwall had jobs, so long as they were Free Marchers. 

He didn’t care about the Hanged Man’s usual patrons however; he was looking for someone who was out of place. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for. Sitting at a table near the stairs on her own was a redheaded elf dressed in the style of peasant clothing Fenris recalled was common in Tevinter. The rest of the patrons seemed curious about her but no one seemed interested in going over to speak with her. She seemed disinterred in them, her gaze focused on her hands, which she had folded on the table.

Fenris’ heart began to beat faster when he saw her. As he approached her, he was hoping that he would remember her in some way, but was disappointed when he felt nothing other than a faint stirring of familiarity. It was barely enough to confirm that this was the woman he had been waiting for.

His steps were uncertain as he approached her. “Varania?” 

She turned at the sound of her name, eyes widening as she saw him. “It is you.” Varania’s voice shook as she stood up and faced him, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Leto.” 

The name meant nothing to Fenris, though he could tell it meant a great deal to Varania. He tried desperately to remember anything about the woman in front of him, but still there was nothing. “I. . .do not remember you.” The words felt like an admission of defeat. Three years ago he had fled from Hawke because of an over flow of memories, and yet standing here in front of his supposed sister, he could recall nothing.

Varania looked resigned, something in her demeanour giving Fenris the sense that she had expected as much. “No, I do not suppose that you would.” She turned away from him then, refusing to look at him any longer, despite how he tried to catch her attention.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, desperate for her to look at him, to tell him something about himself and his past. “Why are you so-” He did not get a chance to finish, Hawke interrupting him urgently. 

“Fenris! We have to get out of here!” Even as shouted the words, it was already too late. 

From the top of the steps came the voice straight from Fenris’ nightmares. “Ah my little Fenris, predictable as always.” 

Eyes widening in fear, Fenris turned to face his former master, fighting back both the urge to flee and to fall to his knees. “Danarius!” He pushed the fear aside, letting the anger take over instead. He turned on Varania, finding some satisfaction as she flinched away from him in fear. “You lead him here!”

Danarius clucked his tongue in consternation. “Now, now Fenris don’t blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial citizen should.” 

Fenris noticed Varania flinch at his words, feeling guilty for her actions no doubt. It made no difference how she felt, all that mattered was killing Danarius and finally getting his revenge and his freedom. “I never wanted these filthy marking Danarius. But I won’t let you kill me get them.” 

Danarius laughed mockingly at his words. “How little you know my pet.” The word cause Fenris’ skin to crawl with unbidden memories. His attention slid from Fenris to Hawke, seizing him up. “And this is your new master then? Then Champion of Kirkwall, impressive.”

“Fenris doesn’t belong to anyone.” Hawke growled out, stepping in front of Fenris in a protective manner. It caused Fenris’ heart to swell knowing that Hawke still cared for him enough to protect him from his former master.

“Do I detect a note of jealousy?” Danarius appeared amused, glancing between Hawke and Fenris with a knowing smirk. “It’s not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn’t he?”

There were things Fenris had never wanted Hawke to hear about his past, and this was one of them. “Shut your moth Danarius!” He cried, markings lighting up even as he reached for the Sword of Mercy which Hawke had given him months before. It would be unbelievably satisfying to remove Danarius’ head from his body using it. 

Looking equal amount disappointed and annoyed, Danarius pulled his staff from his back with a sigh. “The word is master.” 

Behind him Varania was quick to flee as Danarius’ soldiers stepped forward. Most of them were the usual sort of guard as well as a handful of slavers. With Hawke at his side and Varric and Merrill providing back-up, Fenris charged at the men, knowing they would be the simplest enemies their party would need to defeat in order to get to Danarius. 

Fenris swung his sword, easily taking down the first of the men who came at him. The second managed to block him, and he jumped back to cross blades with him again. Hearing Bianca’s familiar voice as she went off, he swept low and watched as a crossbow bolt embedded itself in the man’s eye. 

Somewhere nearby one of Hawke’s bombs went off followed by tendrils of vine snaring enemies for whoever was available to deal with. The battle was by no means easy, but it would prove to be the lesser of the evils they had before them. 

Demons began to manifest in waves. Most were minor demons but Fenris felt the heat of at least two rage demons as they erupted into existence. Turning his focus to the nearest demon, Fenris phased his hand, shoving it into the demon and causing it to explode. He miscalculated though, leaving himself open to a swipe across his shoulders by one of the rage demons. The blow sent him to the ground with a hiss, and he may have been in trouble if not for Merrill turning her concentration onto the demon to distract it. Despite what he may have thought of the choices she made, blood magic was abhorrent, she was a good ally to have in a battle. 

Getting back up to his feet, Fenris activated his markings to accelerate his speed and charged at the rage demon, careful to avoid its claws this time. Of all demons rage demons were his least favourite to fight, their very bodies were a danger to get to close. Burns were one of Fenris’ least favourite types of wounds to receive and he already had the one to deal with. 

Having a great sword made keeping out of the demon’s reach easier than if he were to use any other type of blades. With Merrill capturing its attention with her spells, Fenris was able to dart in and hack at it with brutal efficiency until he was able to slice it clean in half, it’s shriek of rage following him to his next target. 

As he fought he tried to keep his eyes on where Danarius was. The magister had chosen the second floor to keep out of the main battle and to facilitate summoning. Fenris could tell he was currently summoning another group of horrors to fight them. When the walking corpses began to appear amongst the demons it was an annoyance; another obstacle preventing him from getting him to Danarius. 

The corpses were less intelligent than the demons, but they were the greater threats due to the fact that pain did not slow them down. Unless the head was destroyed or they were hacked into small pieces, they would not cease their attacks. Magic worked better against them, but blades did more damage in less time. Bianca was less effective on them, which lead Varric to concentrate on picking off the last of the demons and working on distracting Danarius. 

Fenris ignored the numerous wounds he’d received during the battle as the last of their enemies fell. All that mattered now was Danarius who was now trying to guard against both Merrill and Varric’s distant attacks as Hawke and Fenris charged at him. Maddeningly he kept teleporting as soon as there was a break in the attacks, and even during a particularly vicious barrage of bolts from Varric and Bianca, which left both Fenris and Hawke with bolts sticking out of their armour. 

When the shield around Danarius finally broke, Fenris dropped the Sword of Mercy and stalked forward, grabbing Danarius by the neck. His gasps of breath as he stared down at Fenris with wide, terrified eyes made Fenris feel heady. “You are no longer my master!” Nothing could ever compare to the triumph he felt at that moment and the satisfaction as he sank his other hand into Danarius’ chest and quashed his heart. 

A gasp of fear came from his right, catching his attention. Snarling, Fenris dropped Danarius’ body and turned to face the traitorous bitch who claimed to be his sister. She held her hands up in a pitiful attempt at defending herself. “I had no choice Leto.” 

“Stop calling me that!” He growled, stopping just shy of where she was cowering. She shrank back further, but Fenris didn’t care for anything other than enacting his revenge for her betrayal. 

Despite her fear, Varania continued with her explanation, perhaps hoping for some leniency. “He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a magister.” 

Whatever her intent was, her word enraged Fenris even more than Danarius’ insults had earlier. “You sold out your own brother to become a magister!?” 

“You have no idea what we went through!” Varania shouted, straightening and glaring up at him. “What I had to do since mother died! Since you died! This was my only chance!”

Fenris didn’t register her words, allowing the anger to drive his actions. “And now you had no chance at all!” His marking lit with the words and he as he advanced, planning to end her just as he had Danarius. 

“Please don’t do this!” She cried, her gaze fixing on Hawke who had come up behind him, hoping for mercy from the man who was known as the Champion of Kirkwall no doubt. “Please tell him to stop!”

“Wait.” Hawke’s voice was sharp, and the word echoed in Fenris’ head like a command causing him to stop in sheer disbelief. “Don’t kill her.” 

Fists clenched, Fenris rounded on Hawke. “Why not!? She was ready to see me killed!” He turned back to Varania with disgust. “What is she to me other than just one more tool of the magisters?” 

Hawke’s tone was gentle when he replied, filled with sorrow even. “This is your family Fenris.” 

“Elf. Fenris.” Fenris turned at the sound of Varric’s voice as he joined Hawke. “I know how hard this is to believe but this is the last thing you want to do.” There was pity in his eyes, as well as understanding. More so than Hawke, Fenris knew that Varric understood his anger having experience betrayal at the hands of his own brother. 

Varric’s understanding did nothing to soothe Fenris anger, but both his and Hawke’s words rang true. If nothing else Varania was the only family he had, the only link to his past. He turned to Varania once more, disgusted by the sight of her. “Get out!” He barked, not bothering to move or turn to watch him as she ran past him toward the door.

She stopped a few feet away. “You said you didn’t ask for this. That at least is true.” There was something in her tone that had Fenris tensing, sensing that he would not like what he was going to hear. “Leto wanted, competed for it. When he won he used the boon to have Mother and I freed. 

When Fenris turned to face her there was a mix between disgust and pity in her eyes. “Why are you telling me this?!” 

“Leto died from his injuries sustained in the competition. He was always Master’s favourite, and Master was more affected by his death than anyone could have guessed. Despite Leto’s death he performed the ritual on his corpse, a ritual that had only been performed on the living with no success. Instead of creating a magical warrior he created a lyrium prison.” Head held high, Varania’s green eyes bore into Fenris’ own. “You ask me how I could betray my own brother, I didn’t; I betrayed the demon wearing his skin.”


	2. Chapter 2

Varania’s words echoed in Fenris’ mind as they held each others’ gazes, neither moving nor saying anything. Demon. The word echoed in Fenris’ mind like a curse, he tried to dismiss the word, what more could he expect from someone who had been so eager to sell him out for power? Another part of him raged for a different reason; shouting that the words were a twisted sort of truth; I am no demon! That part cried, bringing to mind words that he had heard Anders pet demon shout before.

He was so focused on his thoughts and the duel feelings warring within him that he made no notice of Varania’s departure, and only came back to himself when Hawke cautiously touched his arm. “Fenris?”

Fenris turned at the touch and the sound of his name, the action cause partially by autonomic reflexes. Hawke was looking down at him with concern, his expression mirrored by both Varric and Merrill standing behind him. “Are you alright?” Hawke asked him, his hand still on Fenris’ arm. 

Despite the fact that it could be considered weak, Fenris shook his head, he knew that he was anything other than fine. His world had just been turned upside down and he was finding it difficult to grasp anything that seemed to ground him to reality. Hawke’s hand was a life line for him in that moment, something he knew to be warm and real. 

Hawke offered him a crooked smile, “You look like you need a stiff drink. Luckily for us even the near destruction of the Hanged Man doesn’t stop Corff from serving the piss he calls ale.” The attempt at humour was forced and weak, but Fenris appreciated the sentiment as much as the offer for a way to numb his mind to everything that had just happened. 

“I’ll go and get Aveline and Blondie; one to clean up the mess in here and one to clean up any messes on our bodies from the battle, Daisy can join me. Why don’t you two head up to my rooms and we’ll meet you there when we get back.” Varric said as he strapped Bianca to his back. “I’ll have Norah bring you up booze and food, and explicit instructions to let no one else in unless its one of us.” 

“Don’t get lost getting there or back.” Hawke told him with a more authentic smile this time. It was more comforting to Fenris than his earlier one, even if it was not directed at him.

“Don’t worry! I have my ball of twine!” Merrill exclaimed, digging out said ball of twine from a small pouch on her side. “I always keep it with me just in case I get lost.” 

Hawke and Varric laughed at that even as Varric took Merrill’s elbow and began to lead her to the exit. “It doesn’t work unless you use it to get to where you’re going Daisy, it doesn’t magically recall where you’ve just come from.”

“Oh. . .well perhaps I could put an enchantment on it so it does just that.” Merrill’s faded as she and Varric left, leaving Fenris and Hawke standing alone amongst the carnage in the Hanged Man. Despite the bodies, the usual customers were already returning to their usual spots. It seemed that the battle which had just occurred was to be nothing more than a new topic for the drunks to discuss. 

Ignoring all of this, Hawke guided Fenris toward Varric’s rooms. “Common on Fenris, let’s get cleaned up and the liquored up, and if you’re up to it we can talk.” 

Two of those three options were acceptable to Fenris; he hated being covered in blood and demonic ichors, and being sober was the last thing he wanted to do after what had happened. He had no plan to talk however, and hopefully the alcohol would work fast enough to stop him from having to think any further about Varania’s words. 

It seemed Hawke had other plans, though Fenris had no desire to talk about what had just occurred, Hawke by nature could not help the obvious need he had to speak of what happened. “I’m sure Varania was just lashing out at you, after all you did just kill the only chance she had at becoming a magister. Not that I feel sorry for her or anything!” He added when Fenris sent a glare his way. “I just mean what she’s saying is probably a flat out lie. You always say that you can’t trust a magister as far as you can throw them, and given how strong you are you can throw them pretty far so that means magisters are really untrustworthy.” 

“Hawke, I do not wish to speak of it.” Fenris told him, wondering how long Norah would be with their drinks, provided Varric remembered to have them sent up and had not merely been using that as an excuse to make a hasty retreat. 

“Right.” Hawke sighed, deflating somewhat. Fenris usually appreciated that Hawke cared about his companions as much as he did, going out of his way to help them. He would also never be able to repay Hawke for his aide in dealing with Danarius, but Fenris did not wish to speak about what had happened in any way. 

Despite Fenris not wishing to speak of it, he could not stop himself from thinking about Varania’s words once again. His newly claimed freedom seemed unimportant in the wake of what he had learned about himself. And if her words are true? He asked himself, If I am truly a demon trapped in a soulless vessel, what then? The thought did not sit well with him; Fenris knew very little about demons or spirits, his expertise was in killing them not studying them after all. If he was one of those vile things, there was only one option for him in the future. It seemed that he would be once again following in the footsteps of his former master.

“Fenris.” Hawke’s voice jerked him out of his morose thoughts, and he turned to look at the man who was gazing at him with deeper concern than before. “Norah’s brought us a tray of liquor and food, why don’t we toast to your freedom before we get ourselves thoroughly shit faced?” 

It was perhaps the best idea Fenris had heard today, the part about getting shitfaced, not the toast. Nodding Fenris took one of the tankards and held it up. “To Danarius, may you rot and all the other magisters with you.” 

Hawke raised one dark brow at that but said nothing as he touched their tankards together before downing half of his in a large swig. Fenris took a much smaller gulp, but did not put his drink down until he had emptied it. Even as he set the tankard aside he was already reaching for another one, ignoring the food completely in lieu of getting drunk as quickly as he could. 

Thoroughly drunk was how Varric and the others found them several hours later. The food lay mostly untouched on the table as they Fenris and Hawke attempted a staring contest in which neither of them could actually focus on the other for more than several seconds before laughing and looking away. 

“I heal wounds Varric not drunken wounds.” Anders stated, obviously unimpressed at the scene before him. The mage’s obvious displeasure only cause Fenris to snort in amusement as he reached for another glass of the Hanged Man’s best swill, only to discover that he and Hawke had effectively polished it off. 

“You are a gentle dwarfman.” Fenris said to Varric with an attempt at a straight face. “And we appear to be out of. . .” He looked to Hawke to supply a word for what they needed, thoughts coming sluggishly.

“Fun juice!” Hawke did not disappoint, Fenris knew the man would always have his back in anyway, or have him on his back as he did that one night three years ago. The thought of repeating what had happened that night was more than a little tempting at the moment, Fenris wisely pushed that thought to the side to brood over when he was more sober. It was something that he tended to think about quite often when he was alone in his mansion, whether consciously or not. Wine and thoughts of that night often led to interesting dreams for Fenris. 

Shaking his head slightly at that train of thought, Fenris focused his attention back on Varric. “We have run out of fun juice and we require another offering.” 

Standing behind Varric, and towering over the dwarf, Aveline shook her head in disappointment. Fenris stared at them, trying to puzzle out how many Varrics it would take to make an Aveline. “Honestly the two of you. I think you’ve had more than enough alcohol to last you at least a week. The fact that you will both be utterly miserable with hangovers tomorrow is justice enough for your idiocy.”

“Hangovers that I am not healing for either of you; especially you Hawke.” Anders added when Hawke whined at the comment. “Honestly, when Varric came to get me I thought that something serious had happened. I can use my time much better than babysitting a pair of drunks.” 

Anders comment about something serious having happened washed over Fenris like a bucket of cold water. None of them had been seriously injured, although Fenris felt a phantom ache in his shoulder where he had taken a hit from one of the demons, Hawke had applied elfroot and a bandage to that early on in their evening and declared the injury to not be in need of anything more. Furthermore Varric knew of Fenris’ aversion to magic and healing, he only went to Anders when there was no other choice. There was another reason the dwarf had brought him here. 

“No.” Fenris hissed as he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, all his earlier humour and relaxation gone. 

Everyone’s gazes turned to him in surprise. “No?” Merrill parroted, her brow crinkling in confusion.

Fenris ignored her, his focus on Varric. “I know why you brought him here and you should not have.” 

Realization dawned on Varric’s face, and he met Fenris’ glare with a grim stare. “I know the two of you don’t always get along but if there’s anyone who can confirm or deny what your sister told you its Blondie. If it does turn out that there’s some truth in it, his glowing half will be an invaluable source of information.” 

“That woman was not my sister; and her words nothing but lies!” Fenris shouted lyrium markings flaring into life as he did. Any alcohol Fenris may have in his system burned away quickly at their activation. “Keep your meddling out of my life dwarf!”

Behind him, Hawke lurched to his feet, and reached out to him imploringly. “Fenris.”

“Just what are you all talking about?” Aveline asked her voice cutting through the tension that continued to build up in the room. 

Anders nodded in agreement at her words. “Whatever it is, I can guarantee that Justice and I likely want no part of it.”

It was Merrill who filled them in on what had happened, it was almost worse than having Anders know about his situation. “Varania, that is Fenris’ sister, told us after we beat Danarius that Fenris wasn’t a real person but a demon! And not like a demon when he fights!” She added with a quick shake of her head. “She said that the lyrium markings were a cage that was trapping a demon inside her dead brother’s body. That is Fenris’ body.” 

When Anders turned to him wide-eyed, Fenris could almost see his demon studying him from behind those eyes. It made Fenris feel ill, he was not like that creature! Grabbing his sword, he pushed past everyone, needing to get away from the room and everyone in it as quickly as possible. He ignored Hawke’s strangled cry of his name and once he was out of the Hanged Man used his marking to increase his speed and put as much distance between himself and any pursuit as he could. 

He didn’t care where he ended up, as long as he was alone when he got there.


End file.
